Interpretive Hearts
by Crimson1
Summary: Leonard Snart has been forced into early retirement as a dance choreographer after too many hip injuries and recent hip replacement surgery. He's moved into his beach house from the city to rest and relax and figure out where to go from here as he begins his physical therapy. While he hates to admit it, he's lonely and completely unsure of what to do next. Enter Barry Allen.


Len hated the beach. The only reason he had a beach house was because it was private, away from the city, and the deal had been fantastic when he bought it. He didn't do water or sun or sand. Though he didn't mind the sitting in the shade under a large umbrella part, reading a good book on a calm day in peace and quiet.

That would have worked out much better if the house next door that had been empty for _years_ wasn't suddenly occupied by a bunch of twenty-somethings playing volleyball.

Not that they were being excessively loud or rowdy, but Len wanted the beach to himself his first full day moved in for good from the city. At least Mrs. Thompkins on the other side had the decency to only use her beach house in December.

Len took a breath, rereading the same page for the fifth time, but whenever he started to digest it, a laugh or shout or groan as someone hit the sand from a rough leap for the ball pulled him right out again. It was a big area of the beach, but sound still carried.

Maybe today wasn't the day to be reading outdoors. Those kids were probably college age enjoying the house for the weekend from one of their mommies and daddies. Len could read tomorrow. Or inside. He still had unpacking to do that he'd been putting off, as if finishing the last few boxes would put a stamp of finality on his situation.

Shifting once again in his beach chair, he winced. He needed to get a new one with more padding or a different angle to accommodate his hip. The surgery was healing well, but if he did even one thing wrong, it could mean complications or an infection. It was bad enough he couldn't dance anymore.

Spending even one night of recovery at his apartment had only proven what he already knew. If he had to be forced into early retirement, then he also had to get out of the city or he'd lose his mind.

"Nora, get back here!"

Not that those kids were helping any. Len made a concerted effort to block everything out and tried reading that same page again.

When a volleyball rolled into view in front of his chair.

"Nora!"

Followed by an explosion of sand coating his legs as a small white dog pounced on the ball like a martyr throwing themselves on a bomb.

" _Nora_. I am so sorry."

The owner of the dog, the voice, and presumably the volleyball jogged into view where Len had been trying to hide beneath his umbrella. One of the kids, no doubt, who Len was about to lay into no matter how much this wasn't anyone's fault, when he looked up at the young man and…

Shit.

Over six feet tall, long, lean, swimmer's build, all very much on display since he was only wearing swim trunks. He was young but older than college age, with light facial hair, messy brunette hair, and a dazzling smile.

"Hi, I'm Barry." He hoisted his dog into one arm while reaching over Len's beach chair with the other. He had a firm grip too, great hands.

 _Shit_.

"Barry Allen. I moved in a few months ago. You just got in yesterday, right?"

A few months ago, which meant he was staying.

 _Fuck_.

"Leonard Snart. pleasure to meet you." Len fixed his face into as tight and uncordial an expression as he could, because he did not need some gorgeous, young beach bunny imposing on his life right now. Turning to the side in his chair, he shook the sand from his legs.

"I am so sorry about that," Barry said. "Nora just got excited when the ball took off."

Why wasn't he picking up the ball now and going away? Len could see his tan line with how his shorts rode too low after chasing the furball.

Meanwhile, _Nora_ wriggled in his arms and licked at his neck with unabashed joy. Len could understand the inclination, but he really did not need this.

"Mrs. Thompkins said you're a dancer," Barry said, holding firm as the good neighbor.

 _Urg_.

"Former." Len dumped the sand out of his book.

"Right. Choreographer now?"

"Also former."

"Oh." Barry fidgeted, maybe finally picking up on Len's lack of engagement. "Needed a change of pace?"

Or not.

"The pace changed for me." Len stood with a grimace, hating how obvious it made his injury, but it did the job of drawing Barry's attention. "I'd prefer to keep dancing. My body disagrees."

"Oh…" A somber nod was Barry's response, which Len _hated_. Pity was always worse than ignorance, especially from someone young and virile. "Well it is a body worth listening to."

Len froze—just in time to see Barry's eyed widen.

"I did not just say that. Please don't hold it against me for any future friendship. I'm not actually that lame. I just meant…our bodies tend to know what's best for us."

"And you're what, a yoga instructor?" That would be so typical.

"Something like that," Barry chuckled. "Actually, I'm—

"Barry!" a female voice snapped his attention back to his friends.

"Right. Sorry, better get going." Finally, he bent to retrieve the volleyball, still holding Nora with his other arm, and flashed Len a final smile. "It was nice to meet you, Leonard."

"Len," Len said, because of course he felt compelled to correct him.

"Nice to meet you, Len," Barry smiled wider, his eyes flicking down at the sand then back up like a bashful flutter before he was gone.

Len grabbed his book and shuffled inside, cursing the entire way.

XXXXX

"Because I said I'm fine," Len growled into his cell phone.

If anyone was going to call like a doting parent he thought it would be his mother or his sister, not his best friend.

"I'm only sayin', Lenny, if you need company—"

"I just got here. I haven't had time to feel lonely." Len cringed as he set a kettle of water on the stove; he didn't want Mick thinking he _would_ get lonely just because everyone he knew and loved was still in the city.

"Lisa had this idea—"

"I don't even want to know—"

"—about you getting a pet or somethin'."

"A pet?" Len leaned against the kitchen island, thinking of _Nora_ , the curly white menace from earlier. "You know I hate dogs."

"No one hates dogs, you just don't want the work."

"Same thing."

"Then get a cat. They take care of themselves most the time."

"Well…" Len did like cats but hadn't had one since he was a kid. His apartment hadn't allowed pets. He supposed it wouldn't be terrible to have another heartbeat in the house. "How would I even go about that out here? No pet stores. The humane shelter?"

"I'll give ya one better. Your sis already did the research."

Of course she had; Lisa never could resist meddling.

"There's a foster program out that way. Folks watch pets til they find a permanent home, then bring 'em right to your door. If it's not a good match, they come back for it. Easy."

That sounded reasonable, and it would keep Lisa and Mick off his back. "Fine, have her send me the info, and I'll think about it."

"How else ya doin', buddy?" Mick asked.

"Sore." Len rubbed his hip. It was time for more pain meds, but he hated taking them. He just wanted to get back to equilibrium. He refused to use the cane they'd given him except for when he first woke up in the morning. "But I'm fine, really. Just trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do next."

"Hey, no brooding the first couple weeks. Only vacation."

If this was a vacation, it wouldn't hurt so much—physically or otherwise. "That would be easier if I didn't start physical therapy next week."

"Okay, a week's worth of vacation. Then you can brood."

Len snorted. Mick was a good friend. He had an imposing presence as a large muscly type, but he was one of the best playwrights Len had ever met and truly kind-hearted. He always kept to smaller theaters though, just enough to be known and comfortable—and happy with his husband of fifteen years.

Ray was a good friend too, though a little too _motherly_ , for lack of a better word. He was an engineer, a wealthy one, yet he packed Mick's lunch for him every day. Neither of them could ever understand what it was like to feel as lonely as Len did sometimes.

"I gotta go, Mick. All this exciting relaxing ahead, you know. No brooding, I promise." The kettle was starting its war cry. Now that it was evening and Barry and his friends had gone inside, Len thought he'd give reading on the beach another shot with a hot cup of tea.

"Alright, Lenny. You be good, brother."

"You too."

The waves were calm when Len got outside, just that low, soothing whoosh. He sipped his tea, settled in comfortably, and got through several chapters without realizing how late it was until he startled awake.

Hibiscus tea was the kind he preferred before _bed_ , which was probably why he'd fallen asleep.

Waking with a start, chin on his chest, book in his lap, Len heard the faint sounds of laughter and music in the distance with a smoky scent in the air. Barry and his friends must be having a bonfire. Len had gotten some reading in, but now he needed to sleep for real. And pee. And—

"Ah!" he gasped when he tried to sit up.

He hadn't taken his pain meds before going outside only to fall asleep in his less than supportive beach chair and now his hip was killing him.

"Len?"

Oh no.

"Hey, I didn't realize you were still out here, I was just coming to knock on your door." Barry appeared from around the umbrella, without the dog or volleyball but still in trunks with a loose button up beach shirt covered in palm fronds. "We can turn the music down if—are you _okay_?" He noticed the way Len clutched both his hip and one arm of the beach chair.

"I…" Len could drop dead any time now. But he also couldn't get up. "I forgot to take my pain medication and now it hurts too much to move."

"How long have you been there?" Barry's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "That chair's not at all conducive for—"

"—hip issues, especially after surgery, I know. I…fell asleep." Because Len was an old man compared to this kid.

A warm smile lit up Barry's face. "Surgery, huh? I was going to offer you a drink, see if you wanted to join us, but I guess I have to offer something else." He came around the side of Len's chair and squatted down.

"What are you doing?" Len leaned away from him.

"Getting you out of that chair. Now hang onto your book."

"Wait—"

But Barry's arms were already scooping underneath him, giving an impressive heft of strength considering they weren't that different in size, and lifting Len without causing a spike of pain, only a mild hiss.

"I got you. Is the door unlocked?" Barry asked as he started for the house. Len's chair was setup close to the porch, but there was no way Barry's friends weren't seeing this if they were looking.

"Yes," Len said, feeling utterly humiliated—and a little turned on by Barry's proximity and firmness and beachy smell, which was just insult to injury when he had to pee. Why did Barry have to be so…all of this?

It was a sliding door, but only the screen door was closed, easy enough for Barry to push aside while carrying Len. "Sofa or bedroom?"

" _Sofa_ ," Len said without hesitation. He drew the line at letting this gorgeous man into his bedroom the first day they met.

Thankfully, the sofa was close, large and comfortable, and Len felt instantly at ease once Barry set him down.

"Are those your pills?" Barry walked to the kitchen island.

"Yes, but—"

"I'll get you some water. You should wait ten or fifteen minutes before you move, let them kick in and take it slow. I can wait around if you—"

"No," Len said a little harried, not meaning to be rude, but he didn't like being taken care of, especially by a beautiful stranger who only reminded him of what he'd lost. "I appreciate the offer and the…lift, but I'll be fine."

"What are neighbors for?" Barry said as he came back with a glass of water from the tap and the bottle of pills. "Though I guess I can't offer you that drink anymore."

Len downed the maximum dose with a thick swallow. "Not much of a drinker anyway. And the music is fine. I'll be up for a while now. My own fault."

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Barry crouched beside him again to be on his level, such ease to the movement like it was no effort at all. Len missed that. "How long ago was the surgery?"

"Less than a week."

"You're a rock star then. Nothing to be ashamed of. But try to remember to take your pills and—"

"A new chair is already on its way. Geriatric approved," Len said with a sneer.

Barry laughed. "I hardly think you qualify. What are you, thirty-five?"

Oh, he was a flatterer. Len could add about a decade to that. "And are you the baby-faced thirty-five-year-old type yourself or a bearded twenty-three?" _Please don't actually be college age_ , not that Len should care.

"More somewhere in between," Barry said cryptically.

Late 20s then, which wasn't terribly young. Still too young for Len.

Barry grabbed a cell phone out of his pocket, startled by it vibrating. His face flushed with color when he read the text.

"Something funny?" Len asked.

"Oh, uhh…one of my friends making a bad joke, wondering where I went."

"How bad a joke?"

Barry's smile turned embarrassed after he shot a text back. "He asked if I'd decided to roleplay Florence Nightingale and sleep here tonight."

Len laughed before he could stop himself. "And how'd you respond?"

"I said, yep, so if you could take care of breakfast for everyone tomorrow, that would be great."

A fuller laugh left Len, and Barry joined him, so Len didn't try to squelch it. "It was a rather dramatic exit we made. When you regale your friends with the tale, please make the injury something cooler than years of dance."

"Black ops, got it." Barry nodded. "But the details are classified."

Damn it, why did he have to be so charming?

"I should… But hey, do you have your cell phone on you?" Barry asked as he stood.

"Yes." Len pulled it from his pocket, confused, and Barry plucked it from his fingers. He entered a number.

"There, now you can call me if you ever…"

"Fall down and can't get up?"

That dimpled grin was the kind Len could get lost in. "If that's the only reason you can think of."

 _Fuck_ , why was he flirting? Len was a train wreck and went entirely blank for what to say, which prompted Barry to look away with that bashful glance at the floor then back at Len far too attractively.

"See you later, Len."

"Y-yeah. Thanks."

Once Barry was out the door, Len fell back into the cushions with a groan. At least he had his book, because as much as he still had to pee, he wasn't getting up from the sofa anytime soon.

He also had no idea what page he'd left off on.

XXXXX

The next morning, Len decided he would definitely _not_ call Barry unless there was an emergency. He didn't need complications. He was terrible company anyway. He'd only end up alienating Barry, and he didn't want his neighbor to hate him.

Besides, it's not like they could do anything _fun_ , not full range types of fun, if that's what Barry was interested in, until Len had undergone a few months of physical therapy. He could still _attend_ to himself as needed, and having that pretty face between his thighs wouldn't be the worst thing in the world…

Nope. Len wasn't going to think about it. _Fun_ aside, if Barry was looking for more, Len would be an even bigger disappointment. And he'd been enough of a disappointment to everyone and everything else in his life lately.

A cat wouldn't judge him at least. A cat would just be there to snuggle and keep him company while requiring minimal effort. He'd only need to feed it, give it water, get one of those automatic litter pans so he didn't have to bend over to clean it. Easy.

His sister's email about getting a pet was far too chipper though. Lisa wasn't chipper. It meant she was trying too hard and assumed he was miserable. He _was_ , but he couldn't admit that. So, although he did click the link to the adoption agency, his response to her email was that he was only doing it so she would have someone to talk to when she visited.

The middle finger emoji she replied with was much more her style.

Len spent a good portion of the next few days day scouring for cats on the website that were being boarded near him and that had traits he could relate to. He didn't want one that was best with multiple pets. He didn't want a kitten. He didn't want one too fluffy that would infest his home with hair and require constant brushing. Just a calm, single-pet family, adult cat.

Then he found him, and he was _beautiful_. Unique as a snowshoe breed, thick fur but not overly long like a Persian, big blue eyes, three years old, calm and docile as an old man. Perfect.

Except for his name— _Smudge_. Len would change that the second he got him.

Quickly selecting the cat and filling out the form before anyone could snatch him, Len noticed that the boarder address was very similar to his own. It had to be someone on his same block, he'd just never figured out how the numbers lined up out here.

He paid the fees for the transaction, set a time for delivery, and waited for a response.

 _This is great, Len! I'll bring Smudge by this afternoon._

A little informal in Len's mind—his personal information always said Leonard, after all—but what did he care. It's not like he'd have to spend time with the boarder.

When the knock came hours later, he almost slammed his head against the front door after looking through the peephole.

"Barry?" he said, at first surprised—and then he saw the pet carrier.

 _Seriously?_

"I am so glad you're taking Smudge." Barry glowed, looking even more striking than he had the day they met, in jeans and a maroon Henley. "He's a great sleeping buddy, just the sweetest. Even Nora adores him, but everyone always wants kittens."

Why was this happening? Barry must think Len did this on purpose to see him again.

"Len?"

Right. Normal human interaction required. Len opened the door wider to let Barry in. "So this is what you do? Board cats and dogs? How many more do you have over there?"

"Only Nora right now," Barry said with a chuckle, "and she's mine. I started out fostering her but couldn't let her go. I try to have only one or two other animals at any given time. But that's on the side. By day, I'm—"

His cell phone went off, a call with the ringtone "Miss Independent," which made his cheeks flush as he set down the carrier.

"Uh, I did _not_ choose that ringtone. It's my sister, sorry."

"I can relate." Len waved him away.

"This is Smudge's current food and treats." He set down a plastic bag. "Just open the carrier and let him come out on his own time. I'll stop by later to see how you two are getting along." Before Len could refute that, Barry answered the call and turned to exit. "Hey, Iris, what's up?"

"Great," Len huffed, closing the door behind him and turning to face the carrier. He sluggishly got down on his knees to open the latch rather than bend, which was what he was supposed to do, but it still made him feel silly and incapable.

Smudge didn't move.

"I don't bite, I promise," Len said as he carefully sat, but the beautiful feline remained tense and stationary. "I also can't run very fast so I can hardly chase you. No? New environment, I get it. I realize I don't come across as very personable. There's a reason all my past relationships ended badly and I don't have many friends, but I've been told my worst side was my demanding nature on the job, and I can't exactly berate _you_ for a sloppy pas de bourrée."

Smudge didn't even tilt his head to look at Len.

"Still nothing, huh? I thought cats, being assholes themselves, didn't mind fellow assholes. You too good for me, _Smudge_? We really need to do something about that name… Come on." Slowly, Len grabbed the cat to pull him from the carrier, discovering stiff limbs but not too much resistance, and lifted him into a baby hold.

He really was beautiful. And soft.

"There now. I'm not so bad, am I?"

Smudge blinked at him, then just as Len attempted to stroke his chin, he hissed, squirmed to get free, and darted off into the house, leaving Len thankfully unscratched but very much alone.

Wonderful.

The next few hours were spent calling for Smudge, leaving out food as incentive that occasionally would magically disappear, but still no cat. Even the litter box Len setup in the laundry room had been used. How was a twelve-pound cat such a ninja? Maybe because Len moved slower than he used to.

Being crouched down on all fours calling for Smudge beneath the sofa—if he was even under there—was probably why he didn't hear the door.

"Are you supposed to be in positions like that?" Barry's voice caused him to smack his head against the bottom of the sofa. "Oh _shit_ , sorry."

Len refrained from growling as he sat back on his heels and tried not to glare at Barry, who was muffling chuckles behind his hand and still looked gorgeous.

"Really sorry. I uhh…let myself in."

"I noticed."

"You didn't wait for Smudge to come out on his own, did you?"

Even what was supposed to be the sweetest cat in existence had rejected Len. "I don't suppose you have any bright ideas for finding him," he said—just as Smudge jumped onto the coffee table, happily rubbing into Barry's hand when he reached for him. Len turned his glare onto the cat. "You do remember that _he's_ the one who abandoned you here."

"Len," Barry laughed. "He can sense you're irritated. You just need to stay calm."

"I thought pets were supposed to be the ones keeping us calm."

"Treat him like a small child." Barry sat on the coffee table, while Smudge stuck close to his side, purring at his offered scratches.

"I hate children," Len said, but Barry was undeterred.

"How about like a new student then, just learning to dance?"

"You know that awful coach on _Dance Moms_?"

"Yeah."

"I once overheard a student say I made her look like a pushover."

Barry broke into his heartiest laugh yet, crinkling the dimples beneath his stubble. "Not a people, kid, or animal person, got it."

"Not an anything person," Len grumbled. "This was a bad idea." He grimaced as he tried to get up, not thinking and doing it the way he always used to without care for his hip. It was infuriating to have to think twice about every move he made.

"Here." Barry stood to help him, and Len grudgingly allowed it.

Smudge stayed on the coffee table.

"I have an idea," Barry said. "Why don't we share a cup of coffee or something and sit a while so Smudge can see that I trust you. Once he realizes _I_ like you, he'll warm up to you too."

"And why would you like a grumpy old man?" Len glanced away.

"I'll let you know if I run into any," Barry teased, forcing Len to finally free himself from self-flagellation and smile back.

They left Smudge be and went to the kitchen to fire up Len's Keurig. He chose a cappuccino to appease his sweet tooth, while Barry was fine with dark roast and one sugar.

Smudge still sat on the coffee table when they returned, watching them as they lounged on the sofa with a flick of the end of his tail. To pass the time, Len asked Barry when he'd moved in, since he'd always remembered that beach house being empty.

"It's been almost half a year now. I probably just missed you and moved in after your last stay here. It used to be my parents', just for vacations when I was a kid, but I decided to move out here for good, get away from the city. I have some friends in town. A few were visiting the other day too, so that's why I had so many over. I hope we didn't bother you."

"It was fine," Len dismissed. "You're hardly raucous partiers."

Smudge moved to the sofa suddenly but remained a cushion away from Len, still watching them.

"Keep focused on me," Barry said in a low whisper that made Len realize how close they sat and how green Barry's eyes were. "See, the trick with most cats is to ignore them until they come to you, everything on their terms."

"I see why we're having trouble getting along. Too much alike."

"So I should try ignoring you?" Barry gave him that smile again, and Len's stomach flipped. "Sorry." He pulled away like Len must have looked shell-shocked. "You can tell me to buzz off if I'm being too forward."

"You're not, I… I'm just not really…"

"Gay?"

"Definitely gay."

Barry chuckled. "But not interested, I get it."

"More that it's…bad timing." Len thought of his hip, his retirement, his misery.

"You're in a difficult place right now, big life transition," Barry nodded. "You don't need some nosy neighbor getting too familiar."

Licking his lips as he clutched his coffee cup, Len focused on the comfort Barry managed to exude as effortlessly as he'd lifted Len from that beach chair the other day. "This is an okay amount of familiar," he said.

Barry's eyes followed the trail of his tongue. "I'm glad."

Electricity buzzed between them like there had to be a storm brewing outside. Despite everything Len had said, he felt drawn to Barry's orbit like nothing could stop him.

Weight on his thigh snapped his attention to Smudge, who'd snuck closer and had his front paws on Len's lap now, peering curiously at him as though wondering why he wasn't being pet yet. Taking a chance, Len reached to stroke his head, and Smudge bucked up into his hand.

"There you go, see?" Barry said. "You just have to be patient and eventually…they come to you."

Crisis averted. Len had a cat, whose name could now never be anything but Smudge. Len couldn't change it after their adventures today, not with Barry living next door.

He felt a heat in his chest and low in his belly just from having Barry next to him, tempting him to forget all about his hip and disrupted life, but all too soon, Barry was getting up and heading for the door.

"Sorry, my sister's bringing dinner over so I need to get back. But if you have any more trouble with Smudge, don't hesitate to call."

"I will," Len said. "I mean won't. _Hesitate_."

Barry really had melodic laughter. As he stood in the doorway, the setting sun outside cast him in an especially warm glow. "Also, in case you were curious, I am _very_ patient with cats. Goodnight, Len," he bid farewell with a lingering stare.

"Goodnight, Barry," Len said, almost afraid his pounding heart would tear from his chest and follow Barry down the walk.

It didn't. He remained unbloodied and unembarrassed. More or less.

At his feet, Smudge rubbed against his legs and looked up at him with a near-silent squeak.

"That all you got?"

He tried again, but it still came out more squeak than meow.

Crouching carefully, Len reached to pet him. "Time for more food, I take it? Or missing Barry already? Because I… I need to eat too. Come on."

Heading for the pantry where he'd stored Smudge's food, Len tried to think of anything other than Barry's less than subtle offer.

XXXXX

The rest of the week went by uneventfully. Len didn't see Barry, but the occasional text would ping on his phone, checking to make sure he was okay, that Smudge was okay, without ever explicitly asking if Len wanted company again.

If he was waiting for Len to make the next move, he'd be waiting a long while. He just…couldn't. Not right now. Not until he sorted himself out.

Smudge was good company, a very good sleeping buddy, like Barry had said, curling right against his side at night or when he napped, somehow knowing to steer clear of Len's bad hip, and generally being well-behaved.

Len still had no idea what to do with all his free time. He had some family money. He'd saved well. He could coast and exist without needing to work again given how minimally he lived, but that was just existing, just survival. Somewhere along the line, he needed to live again.

At least today was his first day of physical therapy. He wasn't looking forward to it, but it would give him something to distract himself with. This being a vacation town, the health center was connected to a day spa rather than directly to the hospital, though still close with doctors on call. It had that sense of 'island time' the same as being on the beach, like everything moved a little slower here.

It was almost nice. Maybe Len would splurge on a massage.

He was waiting for his name to be called, sitting in the waiting room in simple sweats and sneakers. He hadn't met his assigned physical therapist yet, but the name on the sheet had been unfortunately old fashioned. Len felt the guy's pain.

"Leonard?" the front desk nurse called. "Bartholomew is ready for you."

Len stood—then stiffened when an answering voice called from around the corner.

"Betsy, how many times do I have to remind you. It's _Barry_."

 _You have got to be kidding._

"Hi, Len," Barry appeared as if materializing out of Len's daydreams. "I realized I never got to finish telling you about my day job. Crazy coincidence, huh? When I hinted you'd eventually come to me, this wasn't exactly what I meant. You ready to get to work on your recovery?"

 _Fuck everything_ , Len thought.

The universe was clearly out to get him.

* * *

TBC...


End file.
